say something (i'm giving up on you)
by Captain Silence
Summary: When Rhaegar Targaryen placed the crown of blue winter roses into Lyanna Stark's lap all smiles died and Elia Martell shattered.
**A/N: In honor of the Game of Thrones season 6 premiere, I've written another little thing for Elia. I don't have much to say about this other than happy viewing tonight, folks. The wait is finally over!**

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 **say something (i'm giving up on you)**

The Tourney at Harrenhal would become the greatest tournament of all time. Of course, that information was not known to Elia Martell nor was it known to her _why_ the tournament would go down in history as the greatest. The tournament spanned seven days, and that day marked the fifth day of the jousts. Of course there were other competitions, but the fun was in the jousts. They were competing to choose the new queen of love and beauty, a title currently held by Lord Walter Whent's daughter. It was in her honor that the tourney was being held.

There, of course, were many beautiful young women all worthy of the title in the stands. Elia's own lady-in-waiting, Ashara Dayne was in attendance, seated beside Elia herself. The other woman was everything Elia was not. Elia had dark skin, bronzed caramel with equally dark hair. Ashara's skin was as pale as Prince Rhaegar's hair though her hair was perhaps a shade or two darker than Elia's. Elia's eyes were dark, like her hair and Ashara's were stunning. Ashara's eyes were violet, a shade more beautiful than the flowers in the gardens. And while Elia was frail and dull, Ashara was a comet; a blazing comet who men swarmed about.

It wasn't that Elia wanted the attention. She didn't want the attention from any man other than her husband; the silver prince; Rhaegar Targaryen. She felt like a child, with her lingered glances and shy smiles when he spoke to her. He was her husband, and yet she felt more like a trusted friend. A friend who had borne him a beautiful young daughter. She tripped and stumbled over her overwhelming feelings for him, while he gliding through existence without even contemplating his gentle feelings for her. He thought of her as a good wife. A sweet girl.

To Elia, Rhaegar was what Ashara was to all the men at Harrenhal: a comet. And while she hungered for his gentle word, she would never ask it of him. Despite his feelings not being up to par with hers, their marriage was a happy one and she would never compromise that for the sake of a few more lingered glances.

Beside her, Ashara shifted in her seat to get a better look at the field and Elia too turned her head to get a better glance at their riders. Rhaegar was stunning in his armor, adorned with the Targaryen red. His hair blew free though he tamed it as he slid his helmet over his head, bending low over his horse. His opponent was Sir Arthur Dayne. At the tournament for Viserys Targaryen's birth, Rhaegar lost to Dayne but quickly redeemed himself at the tourney at Storm's End, where Arthur broke twelve lances against the silver prince. Today, Elia was quite sure that Rhaegar would win.

She was correct.

The horses lunged at each other, thundering across the field, riders bent low over their steed's sweaty necks. The splintering of Dayne's lance echoed throughout the area, and the thud of his body sliding free from his saddle followed shortly after as Rhaegar flipped up his visor, dropping his stallion into a canter and then into a trot, a smirk on his face. He dipped his head to the cheering stands and dismounted to walk his horse off the field.

The next joust saw Rhaegar back on the field against Barristan Selmy, a another man who had succumbed to Ashara's charms. Elia was quite sure that if Barristan was victor of the tournament than it would Ashara who would be named queen of love and beauty. She doubted there would be a man in attendance that would disagree with that choice.

But Barristan was not victorious. He toppled from his saddle after the echoing splinter of his lance and it was Rhaegar Targaryen's name chanted. It was Rhaegar who tore off his helmet in victory, shoving his fist high into the air. It was Rhaegar who went to retrieve the crown of blue winter roses and it was Rhaegar who chose the queen of love and beauty.

It was not Elia.

It was not Elia who Rhaegar made eye contact with.

It was not Elia who Rhaegar made eye contact with and smiled at.

It was Lyanna.

It was Lyanna who watched as the silver prince rode to her.

It was Lyanna who watched as the silver prince rode to her and place the roses in her lap.

For years to come, that would be described as the moment where all the smiles died. Murmurs broke out around Elia, who had simultaneously broken out in cold sweat and whose eyes were burning. While Elia would never call herself beautiful (and doubted anyone else would either) she was Rhaegar's wife. _She was his wife._ Everyone had expected _her husband_ to bestow the title upon her.

But he didn't. Instead he began the slow downhill trek to ultimate demise. At that moment, Robert Baratheon, Lyanna's own betrothed, looked ready to throttle the silver prince and Oberyn, Elia's dear brother, was watching her from across the stands as though searching for the telltale cracks in his sister's armor.

 _I am Elia Martell and I have walked upon vipers and I have not been bitten._

 _I am Elia Martell and I have lain with dragons and I have not been burnt._

 _I am Elia Martell and I-_

A sob worked it's way up her throat and threatened to break free. Her hand shot out to grasp Ashara's, needing the pressure to subdue the desire to break. It was perhaps one of the hardest things she's ever done, save Rhaenys' birth for the way Rhaegar smiled at the wolf girl shattered her spine.

She sucked in a soft breath as a few tentative cheers rose up to clear the silence. She closed her eyes and slowly built her spine back up.

 _I am Elia Martell and I am not made of glass._

But she was.

And she was poised to shatter all too soon.


End file.
